Photo by Elio Santos on Unsplash
We find beauty, writers
Sniff it out, dumbed by our own words
Loudest symphony in bourbon burps
And justifying misspellings
With what words to throw out next
Keyboard blurs, tilts, floats
The extra syllables in line nine
Were on purpose!
They call it free verse
And I’ve never felt something more free
Than I do just taking a piss
On what my life could be
And what my maker
Gave to me.
About the Creator
Jack Friend
Pizzaiolo, social worker, brewer, writer


Comments (2)
Creatively done it. Well.
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